Shattered Whispers
by littledd
Summary: What if the battle at Helm's Deep had gone horribly wrong? What if there was no chance for victory? What if he only had once chance to say goodbye? Warning: Character Death! LegolasOFC Please Review if you like and want another chapter! ON HIATUS
1. No Guilt in Life, No Fear in Death

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything**

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**Summary: _What if the battle at Helm's Deep had gone horribly wrong? What if there was no chance for victory? What if he only had one chance to say goodbye? Warning: Character Death! Angst/Tragedy Legolas/OFC_**

**Review Please:)**

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The sun was setting in the east. Its final warm rays relinquished their claim on the cool stone walls, receding off into the distance. Steadily, night and cold replaced the warmth. They seeped into the fortress and beyond, polluting the minds and hearts of the rows and rows of defenders standing at the battlements.

Man and Elfkind alike stood side by side, bracing weapons of iron, wood, and steel. Faces both too young and too old mixed with ethereally beautiful ones, and countless pairs of worried eyes gazed out onto the steadily darkening horizon. For they all knew full well that soon, that same horizon would be filled with the light of vengeful torches. Angry footsteps would shake the foundations and roars would fill the equally deafening silence. Some looked scared, others anxious, and still others determined. Some looked dazed and hopeless, already accepting their fates. Old men stood on trembling legs and boys who had barely seen their 12th year tried to look brave in helmets that were too big and chain mail that was too heavy. They had been told this battle was hopeless, but they would fight nonetheless. For glory, for death, for honor.

He stood there. Watching. Thinking. Not daring to despair. Not daring to hope. Piercing gray eyes scanned his surroundings. His lips formed a grim line and skilled fingers handled the feathers on his arrow carefully. Suddenly, Wind's gentle breath tangled in his blond tresses and carried to him a foul scent that reeked of Orc. His acute ears picked up a thundering in the distance and eagle eyes noted an orange tinted glimmer in the distance, reminiscent or torches.

They were coming.

His mind dwelled on the impossible numbers. 300 against 10,000. One untrained stable boy for every three or four bloodthirsty Uruk-hai, bred to kill. There was no chance. He recalled his conversation with Aragorn earlier, and he remembered being angry and confused as to why his friend was forcing his men into a hopeless battle. He knew the answer now. It was better that they had the illusion that they were defending their country and their people rather than cowering and accepting their fate quietly. Honor was all that was left now, and death was the only road. They were lucky though, he reasoned. They would end their lives as heroes rather than cowards. And most importantly, they all had had a chance to say goodbye. They knew their loved ones were safe in the caves below. No matter what fate they would come to, they could rest assured that their family and friends were secure.

Not him. All the people he cared about were standing next to him and fighting with him and struggling with him. He could not protect them, he could not save them. The most he could do was to fight alongside them, and hope that Death would not take them away. Yes, they were all there…

Save one.

He wished so much that he could hold her, for one last time. See her smile at him, and hear that tinking laugh of her's. How he wished he could tell her a final goodbye! But he could not. He could not risk her safety. He could not risk—

"Legolas!"

He froze. No, it couldn't be…

"Legolas!" the voice came again.

And then he knew.

He turned around slowly, not daring to believe, and was met by a flushed and lovely Vanadiel. His heart seemed to warm and all his worries and troubles slid away.

"Vanadiel," he breathed, and in two strides, he had caught up to her and enveloped her in his arms. He savored in the feeling of her small hands on his back and breathed in her scent. Gently, he pressed his lips to the top of her head, then held her at arm's distance.

"I thought I told you to stay down at the caves. This is no place for an elleth…you could get hurt."

"I couldn't stay away," she answered, her strikingly green eyes meeting his worried gray ones. "I couldn't leave without wishing you good luck." Legolas smiled at her thoughtfulness, but felt a pang stab his heart. She thinks this is just like any other battle, he thought. She doesn't know that this will be my last.

"Thank you," he whispered back. The thundering of footsteps and a ferocious roaring was growing closer.

"I'll be waiting when you come back. I'll be the first person to greet you, im ber (I promise)." He couldn't take it anymore. He stand seeing her eyes so full of a hope that he could not fulfill. He couldn't bear see the vision of her waiting for him, only to find out that he would never return. He wouldn't pain her more than was necessary.

"Don't," he whispered finally.

"Why?" Her puzzled expression nearly undid him.

"Vanadiel…I'm not coming back."

"Wh...what do you mean?" A small flicker of understanding began to dawn on her, but it was quickly overridden by her overwhelming confidence in Legolas.

_I could stop now_, he thought. _I'm not even sure I can continue without breaking myself._

_No fear_, he finally thought to himself resolutely. _No more fear_.

"We're outnumbered, Vana. 300 against 10,000." He saw her eyes grow wide. "It's hopeless, and…I'm not coming back," he forced out. Refusing to believe his words, Vanadiel forged on, even as realization washed over her.

"I-I believe in you…y-you'll come back. I'll w-wait for you. I'll wait for y-y—"

Not being able to restrain the floodgates anymore, Vana dissolved in to silent sobs. When she saw the look in his eyes, she knew. There was no more hope. Not this time.

Legolas engulfed her in his arms once again, feeling the vibrations of her grief that shook her frame.

"Shh," he whispered, stroking her hair gently, "don't cry Meleth nin…" His tears streaked down his cheeks in silent rivulets, dotting the stone ground below. What he would give to hold her like this for an eternity. How many times he had dreamed about her, dreamed about them together. They would share sunrises and sunsets, laughter and tears, joys and sorrows. It was all shattered. Everything had fragmented into a million shards of tainted glass, and his heart bled from the hurt. The only thing he had left to cling onto was her safety and her love. Everything else seemed to fade away into the distance. Honor, glory, power…they all disappeared. Save Vanadiel. She was all there was left.

He gripped her tighter, feeling the tremors of the stomping below his feet and the thundering growl growing ever louder. There was not much time left.

"Must you?" she whispered. His heart clenched. How he wished he could follow her away. How he wished he could flee and take no more responsibility. But curse his loyalty, he could not. He could not let his friends die on the battlements and live with their blood on his hands afterwards. Aragorn, Gimli, Haldir…He could not desert them. No guilt in life, no fear in death. The choice had been made long ago.

"Yes, I must," he replied simply. "Please forgive me," pulling away slightly to look at Vanadiel.

"Legolas…"

"Vana, there's something else that I want you to do." Vanadiel looked at him expectedly.

"Anything, Legolas…anything in the world."

"Forget me." Seeing her look of shocked grief, he cupped her chin softly. "I will not be so selfish to keep your love when I cannot return it. Open your arms to another, Vana, and let your love for me go. Just," he continued, voice breaking, "once in awhile, whisper my name. In the dark of the night, breathe my name to the stars. I will listen. Im ber, I will listen. Then you will hear your name as well…for I will whisper back. Vana, you'll hear…please." The raindrops mingled with tears and they slid down Vanadiel's cheeks.

"I wish I could be here with you," she said, stroking his face. Gently, he took her hand in his own and put it over his chest.

"You will be, Vana….you always will be." Bringing her hand up to his face, he pressed his lips against her fingertips. Suddenly, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

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	2. Sorrow's Grip

Hey guys, thanks for all those who favorited and reviewed...I LOVE YOU:)))) But so far, I only have one review, and I really hope my story isn't _that _bad, so **please review!!! **Hannon-le! ;)

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"Legolas…you must hurry." He looked up and was met by the worried face of Aragorn.

"They're here." Legolas felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. No, it was too early. Frantically, he turned to face Vanadiel and saw a similar expression on her face. He understood her: how could you possibly say goodbye to someone that was your other half? How could you willingly bid your heart farewell?

"Legolas, you should go," urged Aragorn "we need you at the front. There's no time to waste." But when he saw the glance between Legolas and Vanadiel, Aragorn turned away. He could almost feel the heat and grief that passed between the two. It was as if the very air between them was hot with emotion, and he couldn't bear to be the one to tear them apart.

Vanadiel's eyes were overflowing with a gripping, seizing fear as they locked with Legolas. She felt the heat of his gaze on her skin and at long last realized the finality of everything.

"Legolas…" she whispered pleadingly, his name being the only thing that she could remember now. He smiled only softly in return, caressing her face gently as if trying to memorize it. His thumb caressed a meandering path across her tear-stricken cheeks as his other hand tenderly brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Such acceptance," she murmured, his visage growing cloudy through her veil of tears. "Such quiet acceptance that I cannot achieve…" She bent her head to the ground, not daring to meet his hopeless gaze, and not wanting him to witness her collapse "Im harno…"

Oh how hard it was to act strong! He wanted to break down, to dissolve into tears, but yet he had to act strong and capable. But soon, he would be left alone with only his dark thoughts and broken dreams with a mutilated soul. Soon, there would be nothing.

"Legolas! Hurry, now!" He heard the coupled voices of Aragorn and Gimli urging him to get ready in the wake of the thousands upon thousands of Uruk-hai less than half a mile away. He had two minutes, at the most.

There were no words, for they didn't do justice to the kaleidoscope of horror and grief that coursed through his veins. He wanted so much to hold her, to gather her tightly, to press his lips to hers one last time. But yet he knew at the same time that if he did so, neither of them would bear to let go. The most he could do was to let go first. Legolas turned his head away.

"Go now, Vana…leave." Her blood chilled at his cold words. How could he be so cruel, so merciless?

"Wh…what?"

"Did you not hear me? I said leave! Now!" He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists, fingers closed so tightly that he could feel the skin break and the rush of warm blood. Why couldn't the pain just tear him apart and be done with it? Why did it have to break him slowly into pieces so small there was nothing left to put back together?

Seeing his frame trembling with a barely contained collapse, she understood. She understood the sacrifice he was making for her, understood the immensity of the role he had taken on, understood the amount of pain that role implied. Vanadiel smiled slightly through a blinding veil of hot tears.

It was time.

"Namarië…" she paused. She would not leave the apathy on his shoulders alone. "Namarië, _Legolas Thranduilion_." Vanadiel closed her eyes, trying her hardest to keep the pain from showing on her features. Valar, that had hurt. It had practically ripped her in two to use such formality with him when tomorrow would never dawn, but she could not leave him alone in his selflessness. She had to let him know...and now it was done.

The world spun before Vanadiel as she turned to leave. The countless faces of Men and Elves faded in and out of her vision as the sky and ground became one. Memories flashed in front of her, and in the midst of it all, she could see his face, ever present, ever beautiful. Too quickly, the ground rose up to meet her eyes. She was falling, falling…the last thing she remembered were the strong arms that surrounded her.

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Hazy voices floated in and out of her mind. Abstract images taunted and teased her with meaning, sliding away just before she could reach them. Gradually, light and dark separated and voices began to form themselves into words.

"Is she alright? How long as it been?"

"Poor girl, I hope she wakes up soon."

"I wonder who that young man was? He looked so sad…"

"By Gods, she's breathtaking…"

Vanadiel struggled with her heavy eyelids, trying hard to make them part, to show everyone she was alright. Though none of the words registered in her mind, she could sense a tone of concern tingeing them, and she didn't want to make anyone else worry. At least not now, when…

What was now? Vanadiel struggled to see past the fog that clouded her mind. What was going on? Why couldn't she remember anything?

Suddenly, a boom echoed overhead and with it, Vanadiel's eyes flew open. She knew now. It was the battle…The Last Battle.

Bolting upright, Vanadiel stumbled up, mind shrieking against the throes of realization, her weak body screaming in protest against the effort. She knew the shouts and murmurs around her, but she didn't hear them. She stumbled towards an exit, any exit. Her mind disregarded everything else: the commotion around her, her protesting limbs…all she wanted to do was to go to him. That was all she cared about now.

Finally, her legs could take no more and they collapsed from under her. Vanadiel folded into a bundle on the cold cave floor. People crowded around her soundlessly, witnessing the powerful sobs that racked her quaking frame. She shook and heaved, knees bent to her chest and arms folder over a trembling torso, as if trying to hold herself together. Broken cries and despairing sobs echoed throughout the deafeningly silent caverns. Vanadiel felt as if Death itself had wrapped his cold, unrelenting fingers around her heart and was squeezing every drop of joy out of her soul. She felt dry, empty, and utterly alone. Images flashed through her mind of what she would see at the battle's end: bodies strewn across a bloody fortress and blood-rusted weapons littering the ground. And then she would see him. Just another corpse to mix with the others. His fair hair would be spread around him in matted disarray and his formerly piercing gray eyes would stare off into the distance, empty and void of life. His once-warm hands would be stiff and cold and his lips colorless. She could almost see the arrows that protruded from his chest and sides, blood clotting over the wood and metal. She would shake his unresponsive body, and she would scream. Her shrieks would be lost to the insatiable grief, the winds carrying away the last remnants of a meek hope that clung tenaciously to her soul. And then she would break.

A gut-wrenching sob ripped out of Vanadiel's throat. She was tearing at the seams and the only person that could put her back together was somewhere unreachable, battling for his life. Rip…rip…rip…

"Move aside!"

Vanadiel started at the familiar voice and looked up slightly as the crowds began to part. Where had she heard that voice before?

"Please, move aside! Oh, sorry sir…excuse me madam…"

The crowd finally split at the front and a pitiful sight met the woman's gaze. Her lips paled and she turned ashen.

"Oh no…" she whispered, and rushed to Vanadiel's side. Struggling to support the elf, the woman managed to cradle her shaking body. Carefully, she stroked back the sweat-matted strands of hair that framed the elf's features and tried to smoothen the silken material of her dress.

Through bleary vision fogged by tears, Vanadiel seemed to make out a figure, but she couldn't be sure. Frustrated, she swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

"E…Eowyn?"


	3. Fading Fervor

**first off, thank you to _csiwolfe08_ for the reviews, and _bluecobweb_ for all the favorites and the reviews too...you guys are great and i love you :)) but to others, please _please_ review, they mean so much. secondly, sorry for such a short chapter, junior year is awful and im getting swamped in homework. **

**ok, i'll stop yapping. please read, enjoy and don't forget to review!!! 33**

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"E…Eowyn?" Vanadiel looked up at the mortal woman with muted surprise.

"Shhh, don't talk yet," replied Eowyn, stroking the elf's hair soothingly, "just rest for now." Yet despite Eowyn's words, Vanadiel stared off at nothing. Her green eyes were filled with a blank despair, glazed over with hopeless abandon. They gazed unblinkingly at horrors that existed only within the confines of her own mind while the battle sounds from above echoed throughout the silent caverns. The unceasing ringing of sword clangs, explosions, and the cries of men, fueled Vanadiel's nightmares, and she felt so helpless against it all.

When she finally turned to look at Eowyn, the woman felt her heart chill._Such sadness should not exist_, thought Eowyn as she witnessed the elf's unseeing orbs, silent streams of tears flowing ceaselessly down her cheeks. _I don't think I've ever seen anyone's eyes look so…dead._ Suddenly, Vanadiel's hoarse voice started Eowyn out of her thoughts.

"I'm not scared of death, Eowyn…only of his." Eowyn looked at Vanadiel, unsure of how to answer. "I can see the days ahead without him…those dark, joyless days where one merely exists, without hope of any future. Nothing to hold onto, not even the slightest hope, for there will be nothing left. Day after day, year after year, eternity after eternity…snatching at wisps of a joyful past that tease a broken heart, only to fall even deeper into the bottomless abyss when reality strikes again. It's so dark, Eowyn…so dark…" Vanadiel looked up suddenly and her eyes were tinged with a panicked frenzy, losing their former blankness. "I can't take it anymore!" Her voice had taken on a shrill edge as the weakened elf struggled to sit upright. "I just want him back, that's all I want…that's all I ever wanted! Make him safe, Eowyn, please, make him safe!" Her cries had turned into frenzied shrieks and her eyes were wild with fear. "I want him back! _I want him back!_" Desperate, she screamed at the ceiling as if her voice could carry across to him. "Please, don't leave me alone, Legolas! It's so dark, everything, everything!! No one understands, please!" Her eyes grew impossibly wide as she witnessed an invisible, horrific scene. "I see you now, oh Valar, I see you! Behind you, be careful! He's right behind you, turn around! Legolas, please…_please!!!_"

Finally, Vanadiel's strength gave out and she sunk to the floor curled up and rocking feebly. "Please, don't leave me here…Legolas…saes…" Eowyn rushed to the elf's side again, simply holding the elf as she shook. The woman's face was etched with worry and fear that the grief had finally become too much for Vanadiel. Eowyn had already noticed that she could not see the elf's glow in the darkness of the caves, the glow that was singular to elves. The woman knew that elves could only die of two factors: a weapon, or a broken heart...and Vanadiel was fading. All she could do was to ride out battle with the elf, and hope that Legolas survived. If he didn't…Eowyn shuddered. If Vanadiel had sunk to such depths now, what desperate measure would she take then?

The sounds continued above them as a bloody battle raged on.

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His blade sliced through the raindrops before plunging into another Orc. He had long run out of arrows and had now resorted to his Elven blades, relishing with madness at the feel of flesh splitting beneath the metal and the spray of warm liquid upon his skin. The long fair hair had long been stained with Orc and Man blood alike and his armor was dripping. Body after foul body fell prey to the edge of his tar-soaked sword, and still he forged on, slashing and slicing his way through a teeming sea of monsters.

He did not see, he did not hear, he did not breathe.

He was a machine with one intent and purpose: to kill. Duck, slash, dodge, strike…his limbs reacted with numb precision to actions that had long been imprinted in his body. Automatically, he spun and whirled, impaling and ripping, not knowing, not caring. While his body toiled, his mind was completely disconnected from his physical. Every fiber of his soul repeated one word like a broken record: Vana, Vana, Vana…

He was so numb. What was the use in fighting when hope of any victory had fled long ago? He wanted to just lay down and let the infinite dark take him. He felt soiled and filthy, equally as dirty the Orcs he was fighting. What he would give to just let it all go. How easy it would be to just let his blade drop and let the tide overwhelm him.

But that one word in his mind continued to spin around and around, nudging at his thoughts and tugging at his heart, and he knew he had to keep going. If he could survive long enough to see one last glimpse of her, it would be enough. All the bloodshed, all the death…it would all be worth it.

"Namarië, Legolas Thranduilion." The coldness of the memory stung him sharply and broke through the layer of numbness.

_You are selfish_, he told himself over and over again. _Why can you not be satisfied with a clean break? Why must you open the wounds once more by admitting to love? _Because he wanted to see her again. One last time. He wanted to gaze into those emerald jewels of hers and witness for himself what he had lived for. He wanted to submerge himself completely in her smile. He wanted to stroke her silken hair, touch her blushing cheek, feel her thudding heartbeat, for the final time. He wanted Vanadiel to be the last thing he would ever see before his eyes shut forever.

_I have to make it to the end_, he told himself, _I have to see her again, if only for a moment. _

With renewed fervor, Legolas followed Aragorn's voice that called out for his help above the agonized screams and ferocious roars. He leapt through piles heaped high with carcasses and broken weapons, and almost fell on the slippery ground. Finally, he joined Aragorn and their back crashed together. Countless Orcs surrounded them and too many pairs of yellow, blood-crazed eyes stared back at Legolas' grey ones. Hideous faces were cracked with feral grins, black lips pulling back to expose rotting teeth, caked with grime. The constant growling and the cruel, primitive jibes tried the elf's ears. The two spun around slowly, seizing up their position.

It wasn't good.

"Aragorn, we can't do this…there's too many of them," whispered Legolas, worry spreading across his features. Aragorn looked back at his friend.

"We're here as a distraction. The more we can keep them away from the gate, the less Orcs the men have to deal with."

"Aragorn,_there are too many_. Would it not be more practical to approach from the back, and…"

"Legolas," the man interrupted, "do you doubt me?" Aragorn's voice was tinged with frustration and dissapointment, and Legolas felt a sudden pang of guilt. "I tell you now, we are more than capable enough to defeat these Orcs. Did you not trust me before to not lead you astray? Trust me now, my friend. We will win."

_How can you be so sure_, Legolas wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue. This man was the future king of Gondor, the heir of Isildur…if not him, who else would he trust?

Before he could finish his thoughts, the Legolas saw the first arrow fly.

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